


Kicking Ass & Saving Dames

by SilverSie



Series: Strange Magic Week 2016 [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bog Makes a Hot Ghoul Alert, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7864591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSie/pseuds/SilverSie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marianne runs away, Dawn hires someone to help. Suddenly Bog finds himself in way, way over his head.</p><p>A Fallout AU.</p><p>For Strange Magic Week Day 7: Sci Fi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kicking Ass & Saving Dames

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for SM week, but didn't post it because it might (MIGHT) turn into a full fic and I wanted a bit more written before I actually did post it. But maybe putting it out there will make me write more.
> 
> You honestly don't really need to know much about Fallout to read this, it doesn't take place in/during any of the games and only will have a handful of references. There'll be notes at the bottom explaining a few things, just in case any non-Fallout fans decided to go out on a limb and ended up here. :P

When Bog finally found the woman he was supposed to meet, he was quite surprised to find that she was just a tiny little thing, probably not even 20, and he wonders what the hell someone like her was doing out in the middle of the wasteland meeting an old hired gun like him. There weren’t even any settlements around (there was _one_ , technically, but no one’s left that place in a few decades.)

He kicks the door to the rundown diner open, giving the owner a nod, and the girl gave a jolt out of surprise ( _jumpy thing_ , isn’t she?) She looks like she’d been pacing, poised by the window with her arms around herself.

“Mister Bog?” She asks in a small voice when he comes over, and her large, impossibly blue eyes study his decrepit features in surprise. The girl almost looked like she’d never seen a ghoul before.

After an awkward moment he says flatly, “I know we’re not very common around here, but if you don’t stop staring I’m walking right back out that door.”

She gives a gasp of unbelievably posh and lady-like surprise, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave, Mister Bog, I need your help!”

“Just Bog,” he cuts in with a gruff voice, “Sit.”

She obeys and plops down at a booth, hands folding in her lap and doe eyes looking at him expectantly.

He takes his time to sit and shrug off his jacket before motioning for her to continue, and she practically jumps at the chance.

“It’s my sister,” she says desperately, “She’s— she ran away. Daddy can’t do much about it and she’s totally going to get into trouble!”

Bog’s shoulders slump at that. _Great._ When he was contacted with a job, running into the wasteland after a wayward teenager was _not_ what he had in mind. It probably wouldn’t even pay that great. Worse— this girl was most _definitely_ dead (or would be soon) and _he_ would be the one to have to break the news to this dainty little thing in front of him (who looked like she would cry if you looked at a dog wrong). He rubs his face. “I’m not _paid enough_ to deal with the whims of _young girls_.”

“She’s 27!” (As if that made a huge difference to someone like him) “And we can pay you a lot! I think.” He gives her a look at _that_ but she continues, large eyes pleading, “She’s never been _out there_ , I mean, not _really_ … She could get hurt!”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, lighting a cigarette.

“This is serious, Mister!” Her tiny fist hit the table, barely even rattling a glass.

“I’m still not hearing a price, Princess.”

The girl chews her lip, thinking. “Is two thousand enough?”

“ _Two thousand caps?_ ” The cigarette nearly falls out of his mouth.

The surprise must have made Bog’s voice rough, because Princess corrects herself, “Three thousand! I’ll make it three thousand, Just please, _please_ get my sister back, Mister Bog!”

“Wh—No, two thousand is plent— Where did ye _get_ tha’ kind of money, girl?” She was lucky there was no one else in the diner to become privy to her apparent wealth.

Her eyes are now full of hope and oh, yeah, it’s going to hurt a _lot_ to let this girl down. Fuck. “So you’ll do it?”

“I’ll _look_.” He said, not promising anything, but she gave a squeal of delight all the same and actually reached across the table to _throw her arms around him_. He makes a strained noise of surprise, taking the cigarette out of his mouth so it didn’t accidentally burn her. “I _will_ need more information.” He said through gritted teeth, leaning away to get her to quit it with the _affection_.

“Right!” She settles back down and then looks at her wrist as if out of habit, except there was nothing there. She slaps a hand over it as if it was a mistaken gesture before she turns to take something out of her bag.

He definitely notices and squints his eyes. Her clothes were quite clean, for the wasteland. The pieces fall into place and he rubs his eyes in exasperation. As if this couldn’t get _worse_.

“So tell me, girlie,” he squashes the end of his cigarette, “What are you doing outside of your Vault?”

Her head whips back to him and her eyes go wide and almost even _tearful_ , “Oh, please, _please_ don’t tell anyone, Mister Bog! We’re not supposed to leave, but I just _had_ to do something, I can’t trust—”

He raises a hand to stop her panic and almost has to laugh at the notion; who the hell was _he_ gonna tell? “Alright, Princess. But,” he points a finger, “That complicates things a hell of a lot. Young women don’t have much of a chance in the wasteland in the first place,” (he ignores her obstinate, “She’s 27!”) “But a _vault kid_ on top of that?” She’d be lucky to even tell which way’s _north_.

Princess looks like she’s going to cry, “I know, but— but she’s pretty tough, she’s gotta still be out there somewhere!”

He sighs and sits back, wondering what he’s gotten himself into. “Alright, _alright_. Tell me which way she went.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ghouls - humans mutated due to exposure to large amounts of radiation. As a result they're necrotic and somewhat resemble zombies, but have a hugely extended lifespan; almost every ghoul is from Pre-War, 200 years prior. They are extremely discriminated against in most places and called derogatory terms like "shuffler," "zombie," or "brain-eater." Some people (and certain paramilitary groups) will even kill them on sight.
> 
> Vault - Large, underground bunkers constructed in order to house up to 1000 individuals in the case of nuclear war. Some Vaults remain cut off from the world, safe from the hellish wasteland above, though obviously population size and genetic diversity can (eventually) become a problem. Many if not all Vault Dwellers have Pip-Boys, portable computers that are worn on the wrist. As you can guess, these are very rare.
> 
> Caps - the Post-War currency. Yup, literal bottlecaps. Supposed to be from the soft drink Nuka-Cola (but if we're being realistic here, they've gotta use all manner of bottlecaps, right?).


End file.
